Like a Light Switch
by Azaria Stromsis
Summary: One morning Kensi Blye wakes up happy.


**Title:** Like a Light Switch

**Character(s):** Kensi Blye, mentions of G. Callen, Sam Hanna, Marty Deeks, and Hetty Lang

**Summary:** One morning Kensi Blye wakes up happy.

**Words: **1,786**  
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_Disclaimer: I do no own NCIS: LA and I make no money off of this story. I came up with the plot idea and that's it. Everything belongs to Shane Brennan._

_This is what happens when you listen to Ke$ha's 'We Are Who We Are' on a loop while watching NCIS: LA. Also for a note, three more story ideas came from this little 30 minute writing sprint. I think I should have carried my light switch theme a little more throughout the story, but I'm happy with what I have now. I would love any and all review and constructive criticism so don't be afraid! I won't bite! Otherwise, Happy Christmas and Holidays and to you a good New Year.  
_

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Like a Light Switch

One morning Kensi Blye wakes up happy.

The thought promptly induces a bout of hysterical laughter as she realizes she is happy for the first time in a very, very long time. She must look a mess in her bed that is quite normally neat with a pressed comforter with white sheets embroidered with black patterns. Her hair is the picture of bed-head, she can practically feel the knot at the nape of her neck because she was just too lazy to brush out her hair last night like she should have, and she had no makeup on, with massive bags underneath her eyes. They had just solved the case the night before, the case that had been keeping her up at night because there were kids involved and she has maybe five hours of sleep.

She was a completely and utter mess but for the first time since she could even remember she was mess on the outside and not on the inside. She rolled around in her bed, clasping desperately at her sides, as she tried to stop laughing but she just couldn't because she was happy.

In the end, she found herself flat on her back, gazing up at her popcorn ceiling (she liked to connect the dots, pretending they were constellations and she was star-gazing with her father once again, in one of the rare times he wasn't training her to be better than everyone else). Her chest was heaving by the end of her little breakdown, when she had finally gained control of her body again. She can't breathe and the tears that have long been held behind her mismatched eyes, the eyes that have seen things that should not be seen and the eyes that have always been proud, were running in trails down her temple and into her hair. Some of the droplets rest right on top of her prominent cheek bones. And she can do nothing but shake her head in amazement because she is happy.

Blissfully happy. Joyful, pleased, glad. Ecstatic, delighted, elated. Jubilant, gay, thrilled, overjoyed, whatever you want to say, whatever synonym you want for the word 'happy', Kensi is it. In that very moment, every single word that means 'happy' Kensi is because she never thought she would feel this much and she is and she is crying again because she is happy.

"I'm happy," she whispers to the empty room that is slowly being lit by the rising, California sun. She smells the fresh, ocean breeze through her open windows and she is happy, even though it is way to early for any sane person to be up. Her voice is awestruck as she says it again. "I'm happy."

She was completely and utterly content with her life and the fact that her job had been to kill people and now it was to help the people, the Marines, that had practically raised her and treated her like their own. And she was completely fine with that. She was perfectly fine with the fact that she lied for a living and that she did it well and she had men and women's blood on her hands because that is who she is and the second she tried to make other people happy she is not happy anymore.

It is that final thought that finally makes her pause and remember. The anonymous stranger, the one who stopped her on the street coming home last night, who looked her in the eyes unafraid and said, "If you're not happy doing something, stop doing it." She had been unassuming, a little under average height, with mousy brown hair and pretty blue and silver eyes. She appeared meek but her shoulder were thrown back with confidence and pride with herself and she looked at Kensi like she understood. And she did.

It was like a light switch coming on.

Or a light switch turning off, Kensi wasn't sure and, while she usually wasn't above arguing semantics to herself, now just didn't seem like the time. Last night she went to bed unhappy and with herself conflicted about what she did and this morning she woke up happy and with a clear mind because she loved her job and the people she worked with and she would kill to protect both because her job was the only thing she could see herself doing and the people she worked with her were her family. Her mother (or maybe that really cool aunt who lives far away and gives her awesome presents like cloths and jewels and guns, legal guns) and brothers and maybe the new step-brother who she really, really liked and it wasn't technically illegal because they weren't related by blood but –

Kensi stopped that train of thought when she sat up in bed, wiping her tears away, and resumed her previous train of thought.

It was like a light switch which was just like her. One moment she was calm, easy-going, the next she was the definition of kickass. In those moments, when she was the best of the best at everything, just like her dad taught her, if you looked up the definition of bad-ass in the dictionary, Kensi Blye's picture would be there, pointing a gun at you with a smirk. A person would almost be able to hear the evil, maniacal laughter in the back of their head.

Because she was awesome and unashamed of the fact.

She used her sexuality and her smokin' body to get information and to party it up and get first dates like no other because she was Kensi Blye, unashamed of it, and she was happy.

She is happy, even though she was woken up at six a.m. by the rising sun because she forgot to draw the drapes last night, and she had three hours before she really needs to be getting to work so she kills time in a way that she hasn't done in a very long time. Not since she has last been happy and since she cannot remember the last time she was happy she can't remember the last time she has surfed.

Going to her garage, after smelling the salty breeze of the ocean and hearing the crashing of the waves, she is dismayed to find that her bright purple surfboard is covered in dust. She is in a bikini before she knows it, not even bothering with a shower thinking to herself that she'll catch one before she heads in, and she pauses in the hallway before her mirror to pull her curly hair back. She touched the mirror hesitantly before touching her own mouth.

Kensi is surprised to find that she is grinning a wide I've-just-found-my-soul-mate-I'm-so-happy grin. "I'm happy," she says again, once again awestruck. "I'm happy." She laughs and leaves her house, once again so glad that she chose to live on the beach.

It's six in the morning and she is the only one surfing. Her laughter rings above the crashing of the waves and she is pretty sure that she is so loud that she wakes up a couple of the neighbors because not ten minutes later there are four other people on the waves. The sun is high in the sky before she knows it and as she races to her house she realizes that the ocean will have to be her shower this morning because she is already five minutes late.

When she is in her car she remembers that her surfboard should not be in the rack on her car and that she is still in her bikini. She sighs, leaves the board, and goes to change. Amazingly, her hair complies with her this day, maybe because she is happy, and she is back in her car.

When Kensi parks she realizes that she cannot possibly leave her board out and for everyone to see. She already has eyes on two people who are practically drooling at her custom-made board and she resigns herself to the fact that she won't be doing a walk of shame today but she will be doing a walk with a bright purple board that will quite literally have eyes turning.

She is over half hour late and she sees Deeks' eyes widen as she walks in. Her clothes are sticking to her body because she didn't quite dry herself off, her hair is still soaking wet, and her face is flushed. But what she doesn't know is that her eyes are glittering, with life, with vigor, with happiness and that is what really makes Deeks look confused. And she is practically shining and this is the Kensi Blye that people should know and will know now that she is happy once again.

Sam smiles and says hello, smacking Deeks for staring. Callen just looks at her, maybe with understanding because his blue eyes are twinkling again, and as she stares back he smirks, that little smirk she both hates and loves, and nods. She gives the smirk back tenfold and leans her board up behind her desk before turning around to see Hetty standing before her with a cross expression and hands on her hips.

In French, because Callen is the only one besides Hetty who knows French and she suspects that he already knows what has happened to her, Kensi says proudly, "I woke up happy this morning."

"I told you so," Hetty says, the put-out expression falling immediately. She looks immensely proud and Kensi smiles, the soft smile that no one ever sees from her.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you." Kensi's voice is completely honest and she bends down to kiss her cheek. "You were right. And I'm sorry I was late."

"And why were you late?"

"I got caught up surfing."

Eric comes down and he starts ogling her board and when she cuffs his upside the head because she just waxed it and she doesn't want any fingerprints on Violet except hers. Her instantaneous mood swing seems to put the team back to where it is supposed to be, even though Deeks was the only one looking apprehensive, and Kensi is never more proud of the fact that she is like a light switch. On and off in one second, always there, black or white, good or bad. One second she is seducing a suspect, the next, consoling a victim. Kicking ass and taking taking names or just lounging around and doing nothing.

Kensi Blye is like a light switch, in more ways than one. And she is never more proud of that fact that when she is with family because she is happy just the way she is.

And she is happy.

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_love, _

_Azaria_


End file.
